“I’ll never have your baby. You’re crazy. Your mother must be crazier. I don’t care what you do to me. I’ll never have your baby.”
“No,” he said. He came over to the side of the bed and seized what he could of my butchered hair to turn my head so I had to face him. “I don’t want you to have my baby. You wouldn’t be a good mother. You’re a liar.”
He let go of me and walked away. I lowered my head and closed my eyes. I was so tired that I didn’t even feel the pain anymore.
At least it’s over, I thought. At least it will end.
21
Haylee
Amanda Sanders’s parents had one of the biggest and most expensive houses in our area. It was more rural, with farms on either side of the property. I had been there once before with Kaylee when Amanda’s parents had celebrated her sixteenth birthday. They had acres of land, a pool, a tennis court, and a very large, Queen Anne, Victorian-style house that my mother envied. It was Wedgwood-blue and single-story but nearly twice the square footage of our home, and it had a full-width asymmetrical porch that she loved. I wasn’t all that interested in house styles, but I had to admit I was impressed with the variety of shapes in the roof, with part being a steeple and with attractive front-facing gables. It looked important and even historic, even though it wasn’t really that old.
What was inside, however, was more impressive to Mother. They had a larger dining room than ours, with obviously more expensive furniture, curtains, and chandeliers, and they had art everywhere in the form of oil paintings and sculptures. The living room had a fireplace that took up an entire wall, and the kitchen looked like it belonged in a restaurant. Everything in it was technologically up-to-date.
But what impressed me most was the basement, which ran the width and length of the whole house and was their party room and media center, with stacks of sound equipment and a large screen for projecting movies and television. Amanda’s father was an audio engineer for one of the bigger television stations, and everything in the party room was state-of-the-art. Mother had told us that everyone who had been there said that when the Sanderses threw a party, it was a party.
This weekend, Amanda’s younger brother, Sanford, was on a Boy Scouts outing. Her parents had given her permission to have a party for no more than twenty-five of her friends, so her invitation was cherished. She was being rewarded for good grades and some favor she had done regarding her brother. The reasons didn’t matter to me or to anyone else. A party was a party. Some wouldn’t care if it was a wake.
Amanda’s parents let her cater her party with what looked like a limitless budget. It was as elaborate as most people’s special events. It looked more like a wedding reception. She even had a professional DJ, and although her parents obviously locked away their alcoholic beverages, including beer, that didn’t stop some of the boys and even some of the girls from bringing
something “hot” to drink. Amanda had promised not to permit smoking, of any kind, but the basement ballroom had access through a short set of cement steps to the rear of the house, and anyone could go out there and do what he or she wanted. Enough kids would be smoking pot to get the birds high.
I felt like a magnet when Ryan and I entered. Not only did most of the girls turn away from whomever they were with and rush to me, but boys were ignoring their girlfriends, too. The compliments came flying at me from all directions.
“I love your hair!”
“I was going to try that hairdo. You look beautiful.”
“I love what you’re wearing.”
“You’re like a movie star! Who did your makeup?”
I stood there, changing from a magnet to a sponge, soaking up all the envy and admiration. Ryan had a hard time keeping me to himself. He went to get us something to eat and drink and then wanted to dance. Everyone on the dance floor made room for us—or for me, I should say. Dancing with Ryan was like dancing with myself. He could barely keep up, and since this was the first time we had danced together, I discovered he wasn’t very good. A bad partner could make you look bad. He was trying too hard and wore an expression so serious that he looked comical.
Off to the side, I saw Eddie and Luke smiling at me. I turned my back on Ryan and indicated to them that he was a drag. Luke held his jacket open and pointed to his inside pocket to illustrate that he had something that might help. I winked at him and continued to dance, or try to dance, with Ryan. More couples stepped onto the dance floor, and some of the boys were dancing so close to us that I was practically dancing with them, too. In their minds, I think I was. Their girlfriends weren’t exactly pleased. They practically had to seize their faces to get them to look at them and not at me.
When we stepped off to have something to drink, Amanda hurried over to tell me how great I looked and how happy she was that I had come.
“There’s nothing I can do staying at home,” I said.
She nodded and then looked at Ryan as if she had just noticed he was with me. “Hi, Ryan,” she said. “Got everything you want?”
“I have Haylee. That should do it,” he replied, and Amanda laughed.
Luke and Eddie slowly made their way toward us, slipping in and around people like they were weaving a web to trap everyone.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey,” Luke said.
“Hey, Ryan,” Eddie said, insinuating himself between Ryan and me. “You guys having a good time?”
“We just got here,” Ryan said sharply.
“It doesn’t take long to realize if you’re going to have a good time or not,” Luke said, and Eddie laughed.
“This party’s going nowhere,” Eddie said, looking around. “Too civilized.”